Mystery Case Files: Return to Ravenhearst
by ashstar54321
Summary: Sequel to Mystery Case Files: Ravenhearst. A continuation of Josephine Miller's investigation of the curse of Ravenhearst Manor.
1. Return to Ravenhearst

_You! You stole her…my first love! You took her away from me. By what right do you invade my home and take that which is mine_ _?_ _Be warned, detective. You shall never take my true love! You will never, EVER have…my Rose!_

"Hello, this is the Queen…Yes, seriously."

"Your Majesty-"

"Ah! Master Detective, I have been desperately trying to reach you. My sources have reported that something, most dreadful, was missed when you pieced together the last pages of Emma's diary at Ravenhearst Manor. You must return there at once. I fear Emma's was not the only spirit freed from that awful place. You may have also unleashed the vengeful soul of her murderer, Charles!"

"Your Majesty...I know. I'm on the case."

A black Cadillac grinded to a wheezing halt just outside the foreboding iron gates. The deep evening painted the sky black behind the thick blanket of rain clouds, which let loose a heavy downpour. Blackpool, England, November 2008, Ravenhearst Manor. Blackpool was famous for two things: the legendary curse of Ravenhearst Manor and the fact that the rain never seemed to stop (which caused the occasional flash flood in springtime). The driver of the Cadillac stepped out, opening a teal umbrella against the deluge, shivering in the damp evening air. She looked around, attempting to get her bearings in the gloaming. A dusty light flickered on, casting a pool of orange on the cobblestones. She tucked a curl of auburn hair behind her ear nervously and fiddled with the clasp of the worn leather messenger bag slung over her shoulder, scanning her surroundings. Something glinted in the tangle of overgrown shrubbery, catching her eye. Straightening her shoulders, she strode towards it and plunged her hand into the thicket. Reaching up to her shoulder, she closed her fingers around something hard and yanked it back. A wrench. _I might want to keep this…_ she thought, _Who knows how useful a heavy hunk of metal could be in this investigation?_ Glancing ahead, she noticed a plague screwed to one of the stone pillars in front of her, overgrown with ivy. She brushed the greenery ways and fished in her bag for a notebook and pen. She scrawled the inscription across the first blank page of a faux-leather bound log. _June, 1895- This residence dedicated in name and beauty to my dearest Emma. May this home long stand as a loving testament to your ever loving spirit. Mundus vult decipi, ergo decipiature. Vincit qui patitur._ Scratched into the metal were a series of numbers. _8 16 18 36 38 36 (heart) 78._ She approached the gates and attempted to open them. The only result was a reverberating clang as the iron bars shook. She noticed a keypad mounted near the hinge and began futilely running her fingers over the buttons, hoping for a working combination. Nothing. She found the wrench in her bag and began to remove the bolts holding the key pad in place. The metal cover fell to the ground noisily. Inside were four wires, each labeled with a different pair of numbers, and a grid of electrical ports. Grinning at the ease of the puzzle, she immediately began plugging in the wires, counting over and up to their numbered coordinates in the grid. As soon as the fourth was attached, a small compartment automatically slid open revealing a brass key. She took the key in her hand and fitted it into the gate's lock. With a whine, the gates opened, allowing her access to the manor. She hurried forward, eager to begin her investigation, her heels clicking on the cobblestone pathway. She was half way up the sloped path and noticed a dilapidated well. She grabbed the handle in both hands and torqued it, attempting to pull up the bucket. The handle stuck for a moment and held fast. With a grunt of disappointment, she continued up to the house. She trudged up the steps, glancing around her as if expecting to be ambushed any moment, and brushed a few loose hairs from her face. Another lamp illuminated an inscription carved above the doorway. _The house that love built._ She shivered. A large, glossy raven perched on a tree branch just off the porch, watching her intently. The floorboards groaned under her weight and sagged. All the windows, she noted, had boards nailed over them and the door was adorned with a condemnation notice of the city of Blackpool. Aside from the glowing bulb above her head, the mansion appeared to be entirely deserted. Upon closer inspection, the door held a typewriter key with the letter V inscribed in ornate script. Frowning, she pocket the trinket. Turning around, she noticed for the first time a familiar looking black cat; under its paw, she noticed, was a key. She reached down for it, but the feline swiped at her hand, hissing. She glared.  
"Well, if _that's_ how you're going to be," she chided. "I'll just find some other way to get it!" the cat twitched its tail quizzically. She rounded the corner of the porch, and knelt by an open trunk. Rain and dead leaves had collected inside along with the odds and ends typical of Ravenhearst Manor; a wooden leg, a gnome, a stack of disrepaired books, a brick. She made committed the brick's location to memory, not wanting to carry it with her but knowing that it would probably come in handy. She rounded another corner, hoping to continue her exploration, only to be met with a dead end. As she turned around, one of the boards buckled beneath her. She bent down and tried to curl her fingers under it to pry the board up. It held too firmly. She put her hands on her hips and stomped heavily on the board, though it only jostled a bit more. She turned back to the front of the house and stepped back a few paces to examine the façade. A bird nest was tucked into the eves, something shining inside. _I'm going to have to find a ladder…_ she thought. _Shouldn't be too hard to find in the odds and ends. Once I get into the house._ She strolled absently across the porch. She came around a bend and realized that one of the windows was not entirely barred over. Delighted with her fortune, she rammed her shoulder against the pane. It didn't budge, seeming to be locked from the inside. She kept pacing around. A mouse darted over her foot, causing her to jump, startled, as it dove for a hole at the base of the wall. After taking a moment to recover, she continued on, following a path from the porch to the garden gate. Two statues stood, a tall, solemn man and a woman, her hands held out in front of her, as if holding something. The detective knelt down to examine the inscription on the woman statue's marble base. _Only if you bring me the dark flower that bears her name…flower…name…Rose!_ She grinned slightly, satisfied with her deduction, but, upon realizing that she had no inkling of where to find a dark rose, frowned pensively. Still pondering the flower puzzle, she crossed to a small gazing pool by the other statue. At the bottom was what appeared to be a glass eye, but the murky water prevented her from being certain. Grimacing, she pushed up the sleeve of her fuchsia sweater and reached for the orb. Upon closer inspection (and being dried), it did prove to be a glass eyeball. Shrugging, she pocketed the eye along with the V typewrite key, though uncertain how it would prove beneficial in her quest. After searching through the heap of discarded junk, the only possibly useable item she found was a small horn. She approached the gate, hoping desperately that it wouldn't be locked, though her hopes were met with naught. The lock was a small metal figure with a bird's skull for a head. She prodded an arm. It bent on a surprisingly smooth hinge. _I bet that_ _somewhere_ _there's an answer._ Disappointed, she turned back, wandering towards the house. As she walked, becoming slightly frustrated, she saw a stepladder leaning against a tree; she hoisted it over her shoulder and hurried back to the bird's nest she had seen. Mounting the ladder, she peered into the tangle of grass and twigs. Inside was another eyeball. She pocket this too and returned to her lap of the porch. At one end was a planter, hanging from the ceiling; inside was a single dark grey bloom, the stem covered in spikes. She reached for the stem, attempting to pluck it. The thorns impeded this effort greatly. She turned back to the trunk and picked up the brick, an idea beginning to form. She walked briskly back to the window, the one not entirely boarded, and hurled the brick at the glass. It shattered upon contact. She clambered through the new entry, wondering if anyone would notice the smashed window of a condemned and abandoned house. _No, of course not, no one-_ she froze. In the fireplace was a roaring blaze. Someone was here. She cautiously scanned the room, listening intently for footsteps or any other signs of life. Nothing. She stalked slowly across the living room to the door opposite. Mounted on the door was a peculiar lock of sorts. _Brilliant. Another one of Dalimar's trademark puzzles. Doesn't that man have anything better to do in the afterlife?_ The lock consisted of four round 'sockets', each with a small lever, centered around a screen, which showed only a twitching blur. Trusting instinct, she fitted the two eyes she had found onto two of the sockets. They fit perfectly. She flicked the switch of one of them and the blur became ever so slightly more distinct. She nodded slowly. She walked towards the fire for inspection. On the mantelpiece was a crowbar, looking suspiciously new. She took it and placed it in her bag. Carved into the stone of the hearth was a symbol of a crescent moon, an 'equals' symbol, and a marking she didn't recognize. She copied the equation into her notebook. Most peculiar about the fireplace was that puzzle (presumably another lock) mounted on the mantle: a dozen disks, each embossed with an odd symbol, on either side of an indentation whose outline looked to be that of a sun. directly on either side of the depression were two small circles, the same size as the disks. After watching the puzzle uncertainly for a while, as if hoping for it to solve itself, she climbed back out the window. Immediately she was blasted with crisp autumn air. Grimacing, she hurried back over to the trunk to rummage through it again. The only useful item she found was a machine belt, which she added to her bag. Coming back to the loose floor board, she selected the crowbar from her satchel and set to work removing it. The rotted wood splintered in several places, making the task more difficult that she had surmised. Underneath, she found only two glass eyes. She hurried back indoors and fitted them into their places in the lock. After fiddling with the levers, the screen became clear enough to realize that the twitching blur was actually a blinking eye. The door automatically sprung open, revealing the kitchen (rather, what was left of it). The pungent scent of rotting food permeated the air. Into the side of one of the cabinets was etched a diagram which resembled the garden gate lock, which she copied into her notebook, smiling with the decided victory.  
"I knew it!" she shouted. She immediately froze again, remember that someone else might be in the house. When she was sure the coast was clear, she began to inspect the cupboards. The only useful items she found were a pair of garden shears, a damp cloth, and a wedge of cheese as hard as rock. The oven, she made not of, was chained shut and padlocked. Bracing herself, she crawled back out of the window. The cheese she placed in front of the mouse hole. Almost immediately, the furry vermin scampered out of its hole. She pounced on it, seizing it by its tail. The mouse struggled, but to no avail, and she carried it across the porch before unceremoniously dropping it in front of the cat. The black feline jumped onto the mouse, grasping it in its jaws. Meanwhile, she grabbed the key which the cat had been guarding. She went back in through the window to the kitchen and used the key to unlock the oven. Inside was a pair of garden gloves, stiff from disuse. She slipped one on for size; a bit large, but not unusable. She again exited by the window and hurried over to the planter. She used the shears to snip the bloom and the gloves to grab it. She briskly walked to the statues, a tingling sense of excitement rising in the pit of her stomach. She ceremoniously placed the flower in the stature's hands, practically bouncing with excitement. Immediately, a blue pendant in the shape of a crescent moon fell from around the statue's neck. She picked it up, staring ponderously at it, and shoved it into her pocket. She turned around to examine the gate lock. With a slight smirk, fueled by her victorious sense of success, she bent the metal limbs into position, and with a click, the gate unlocked. The garden was not entirely unpleasant, though quite overgrown with vines and bushes and weeds. A fountain in the shape of a cupid burbled pleasantly. She ambled along the path, still sheltering under the teal umbrella against the cold rain. The path ended at a clearing surrounded by trees and tall grass. On the ledge opposite her, a cliff cut away to roaring waves and sharp spires of stone below. In the distance, she could barely make out the silhouette of a house in the distance through the driving rain. Several cracked gravestones, titles worn away by weather, stuck out of the ground at odd angles. Upon inspection, one of them had an equations similar to the one with the moon etched onto tis worn surface. Sun equals symbol. She copied it down into her notebook for future reference. A small swing drifted back and forth, hanging from a tree branch. The head of a pickaxe stuck out from a knot of brush. With some effort, she managed to extricate it, and, deeming it a possible benefit, managed to fir the pickaxe into her messenger bag. She circled the clearing slowly, watching for any other important details. A stone monolith, concealed by overgrowth, was nestled between the trees. She brushed away the ivy covering the base and found yet another lock. Four stone rings nestled into each other, surrounded by a ring of small lights on the outside. An eagle head, its eyes darkened bulbs was carved at the zenith of the outer circle. Into each ring was painted several red lines. She crouched to the ground, running her fingertips over each ring. Slowly, she began to turn the outer ring, lining up the ends of the lines each with a lightbulb. The twisted the next ring to line up with the outermost, continuing on to finally the centermost. With a dull scraping rumble, the stone circlets sunk back into the base and disappeared into a hidden slot. Behind the interlocking stone bands was a pendant, amber in color, in the shape of the sun. She drew the moon pendant out of her pocket and held them side by side. To no surprise, she found that they fit together perfectly, like a puzzle. She carefully placed the sun and moon into her bag and began trekking back to the manor. Once arrived, she crawled again through the smashed window, carefully avoiding the sharp and irregular shard sticking from the frame. She stood facing the fireplace and retrieved the pendants from an interior pocket of her bag and carefully, delicately placed them into the indentation. She fished her notebook from her satchel and poured through it until she came to the page where she had copied down the sun and moon equations. Her breath catching with fear or excitement, knowing that something significant was about to happen, she placed the sun symbol disk in the depression next to the sun pendant and the moon adjacent to the moon. The puzzle spurred to life, the sun and moon each suddenly glowing iridescently. A cloud of dust arose around her as the fireplace, hearth, and mantle sunk away into the floor, revealing a dark, narrow staircase behind. _  
_"Well, Josephine, another case begins." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, lifted her chin confidently, and descended the stairs into the unknown.


	2. Welcome to Roseville!

She descended the stairs slowly, warily, half worried that a step would give out underneath her at any moment. At last she put her foot on the solid ground of the basement floor. A rusted pipe dripped in a dark corner, creating a puddle which practically covered the entire floor. A discarded doll lay limp and filthy at her feet. A faint glimmering came from a high window, casting a dull milky glow. Ahead, a ruddy, warm light came from a doorway. Cautiously, she picked her way through the mess of old crates, viscous water, and all manner of refuse. She had not come five paces before a thick white mist seeped from the floor, forming into the faint, shadowy figure of a young woman in a long Victorian gown. Her dark hair and angular face looked oddly familiar, though she couldn't imagine where she had seen this woman…this ghost. It reached out a hand towards her, speaking with a heavy English accent.  
"Greetings, brave soul. My name is Rose Sommerset- at least, it once was."  
Josephine's eyes grew wide. _This must be the nurse Emma mentioned in her diary!_ "My daughters and I were stolen away a long time past. I do not have much time, so please listen…Please, unlock the doors quickly and help me find my children! Free us from this wicked place before her returns!" The ghost shook her head sadly and faded away like mist. The detective lunged forward to where Rose had appeared.  
"Wait!" but it was too late, and too many questions were unanswered. Frozen to the spot by a surge of shock and fear, the gears began turning as she attempted to sort out the scenario as it seemed to have unfolded. _Dalimar poisoned, held hostage, and murdered Emma, then kidnapped Emma's maid and her daughters and held them all here. And now Rose Sommerset's ghost wants me to free her soul and those of her children. Alright. And this may well end with me facing off against the freed soul of a- a maniac._ She let out a soft whimpering moan as she imagined having to take on the soul of Charles Dalimar single handedly. She sighed heavily, her stomach clenching in apprehension, and edged cautiously towards the glowing doorway. She entered into a large, open chamber. Several large, burning torches adorned the walls and an elaborate web of pipes carried what looked like a glowing fluid through the ceiling. A solitary stone angel held a plaque reading _May Our Hearts Forever Beat As One_ above the middle of three doors. She approached the far left; the lock consisted of three two rotatable rings, the upper containing slots for three blue marbles, the lower for three yellow. The overlap between held three blank slots. The right door was mounted with a type writer. Several of the letters were missing and the ones which were left appeared to have been removed from several different devices. A yellowed scrap of paper was nailed to the door below the type writer reading _ALL KEYS PROCEED IN HIS NAME!_ She fished in her pocket for the V key she had discovered earlier and snapped it onto the peg where it would typically be placed. She approached the middle door. A peculiar device barred entrance, bearing strong resemblance to the puzzle locks found on practically every door in Ravenhearst Manor in her previous investigation. Although she hated to admit it, Josephine had come to almost enjoy picking apart the intricate mechanisms; beginning her attempt at solving, she flicked on a nondescript light switch mounted in front of her. Immediately the lock sprang to life. Several reels of recording sprang to life, loudly spewing jumbled bits of static and mumbled words. At the same time, several of eight small screens like those of an electric alarm clock displayed a flashing series of numbers. Next to each was another switch, near the size of her thumb nail. She flipped one; the light next to one of the blank screens winked to life as the one adjacent to the switch she had flipped darkened. She frowned. She began turning switches at random, searching for a pattern. Entirely by accident, each of the dim bulbs sparked to life, a pair of red, a pair of blue, a pair, a green, and a pair of orange, like colored Christmas tree lights. She smiled at her handiwork and took a step back, noticing for the first time a dial split into four sections, color coded to correspond to the bulbs. She flicked the arrow to red; a row of mismatched keys each engraved with a digit, stemmed from another screen much like the first several. Using the keys, she entered the two numbers next to the red bulbs: twenty two and thirty six. This was followed by green (seventy six and twenty six), orange (forty one and thirty seven) and finally blue (eighty six and thirty eight). The screens and bulbs blinked rapidly as the door swung open almost noiselessly. _Odd…if the door's as old as the manor, it ought to squeak, I suppose…perhaps whoever I heard in the manor has been tending this lair._ Josephine proceeded slowly, her senses on hyper-alert. After another rickety flight of stairs which groaned a bit too much for her comfort, her feet met the solid floor of a cave. She found herself in some kind of subterranean town: oil lamps hung from the ceiling at intervals, casting a lurid glow. Several building lined the main street, which Josephine could see branched off ahead. A sign hung from the peeling façade of what appeared to be a General Store reading in elaborate script _Welcome to Roseville, Population: 1._ She shivered in the damp, musty air, staring at the welcome in horror. On the other side of her was another building, the sign too faded to make out. Several windows were shattered and the door hung awkwardly off its hinges. A large notice was nailed to the wall.

 **Standard Procedure:**

 **Absolutely no contact with the outside world.**

 **Lock tampering shall be severely punished.**

 **Exit permitted only for nourishment and work detail.**

 **Exercise beauty shop facilities regularly to maintain hygiene.**

 **No diaries, journals, notebooks, or logs.**

 **Disobedience invokes severe punishment.**

 **Your brief journey serves only my continuance.**

 **There will be no discussion of my motives for harboring you here.**

 **Know that I preferred Emma.**

 **Our hearts will forever beat as one.**

She stared agog. _Not only did he keep Rose captive against her will but made very clear that he seemingly had no desire to allow her to remain- she was only a pawn in his plan…whatever that was…is._ Rose's desperate plea echoed in her mind: _"Free us from this wicked place before he returns!"_ She ambled down the road, avoiding several puddles of murky water, and turned to face a large shop window full of miscellany. A long branch was leaned up against the wall, which she grabbed and stuffed into her bag. She turned back to explore the general store. Inside was a counter, several shelves stocked with outdated canned foods and other essentials, and at the back end, and elevator. From the ceiling hung various dangerous looking devices, from shackles lined with metal spikes to what resembled bear traps. In the back corner was an iron stove. Something on the counter glinted in the dingy light: a red marble. _I'd bet actual money that this goes to one of the other door locks in the chamber…_ she pocketed it and continued on. Seeing as there was nothing else of immediate and urgent importance, she turned and went back outside to see what else 'Roseville' had in store. Near the end of the street was 'Rose's Beauty Parlor'. She tried the door; it was locked. Her eye was drawn to another lock: this one consisted of a jumble of red, yellow, and green tiles which needed to be slid into rows of corresponding colors. Josephine began sliding the tiles back and forth, her brow furrowing slightly as the rows began to come together. With a click, the deadbolt was disarmed. She entered in, eyes darting around the room, not sure what to focus on first. Several mannequins in various elaborate dresses and corsets stood against one wall; against the opposite was a scrim and an ominous looking device connected to a velvet-covered chair. Against the wall farthest from her was a staircase trailing up to the second floor. Several lights glowed dimly on the ceiling, emitting a low whine. In one of the mannequins hands' was a scrap of paper. She snatched it and poured over the faded text. **September 2, 1895: Local Man Cleared of Charges. Blackpool official yesterday relieved all charges against Charles Dalimar, resident of number 7217 Darkwood Lane. Mr. Dalimar was accused of kidnapping Rose Sommerset and her twin daughters, Gwendolyn and Charlotte Sommerset earlier this year. Mrs. Sommerset was briefly employed by the accused as a live-in nurse maid for Dalimar's family friend, the American Emma Ravenhearst. Miss Ravenhearst could not be reached for comment. "That man is a liar and cannot be trusted!" exclaims Reginald Sommerset, father and husband to the missing parties. A strong alibi and lack of evidence cleared the accused of all charges. Victims remain at large.** _Alibi my foot! And is 'could not be reached' newspaper for 'horribly murdered'?!  
_ "Charles Dalimar, if I ever-!" she exclaimed forcefully, her voice echoing in the near silence. A creak and a heavy slam made her bolt around before she ever finished saying what she would ever; the door had slammed shut on its own. Her head pounding, back prickling with fear, she took a deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. She turned around slowly, reaching into her bag carefully and fishing out her notebook. She opened the front cover and pressed in the newspaper scrap against the page to save it. She approached the scrim to look behind it, kicking aside several rusted pairs of shackles. Behind the scrim the walls were plastered with posters advertising 'Beauty Pills', 'Extra-Slimming Corsets' and all types of other products. A red marble was tucked into an empty perfume bottle; she grabbed it and smashed it against the table. Once she had taken the marble, she picked through the untidiness towards the staircase. Two carved wooden figures were mounted onto the railing. One sat at an odd angle, as though it had been partially twisted. She turned it and it spun freely. She attempted to spin the other; a panel in the wall swung around, revealing a portrait of two girls in white gowns. _Are these Rose's daughters?_ The corner of one of the portrait had been slashed, removing one of the girls' faces, revealing an odd symbol etched onto the wood behind it. It looked like an angel hovering over an X. Josephine made note of the marking in her notebook and continued up the staircase, uncomfortably aware that the only sounds were her own footfalls and the hum of the lights. At the top of the stairs was a heavy door leading to a dingy bed chamber. The air was heavy with dust and the scent of mildew. _Rose's sleeping quarters, presumably, where she was held during this nightmare._ A window let in a hazy glow. She approached, hoping to open it and air out the room. To her dismay, she realized that the glass had been painted over and the latch was only a molded decoration- the window was a fake! On one side of the grimy four-poster was a chair, a vanity, a nightstand, and a stool. She tried the drawer on the nightstand only to find that it had been nailed shut. The mirror in the vanity had been smashed and the various tins, jars, and bottles lay in a cluttered jumble. The ceiling sagged miserably. On the opposite side of the room was a door; to her bemusement it was sealed with yet another puzzle. A large circle, full of raised squares and a single metal ball, a small hole, and a short length of chain hanging from either side. She tugged one chain: the circle twisted left. She pulled the other, and it spun to the right. The ball rolled back and forth, only coming to a stop as it hit the edge of a square. She spent a while tugging at the chains, hoping to land the ball in the hole. If it rolled off, a new ball would drop back onto the board from an invisible chute in the top. Finally, with a rusted scraping grind, the door swung open. The room inside was a bathroom, filthy and in disrepair. In the corner was a shower, and behind the shower curtain was a _person!_

 **Reviews? Please?**


	3. Her Final Resting Place

She froze, terror gripping her.  
"I-I know you're in here, s-so you might as well show yourself!" she said, her voice trembling. The figure behind the shower curtain gave no response. She marched towards it, forcing herself with effort not to tremble, and flung open the curtain. Behind was no person, but a scowling mannequin dressed in a corset. She gasped a heaving sigh, uncertain whether she ought to laugh or scream. She bent down to examine the bathtub in which it was standing; there were few useful items, mostly rancid food and more bottles and jars with faded labels, but she did notice a metal lever, which she placed into her bag alongside the pickaxe, the stick, the horn, the wrench, and the machine belt. She turned to the medicine cabinet, which appeared to be locked. Grunting, she went to the window and pulled up the blind. It was bricked over. _What a lovely view._ She strode back to the bedroom, coughing at the dust. She crouched to look under the bed, finding only another typewriter key: C. She tucked it into an inner pocket of her bag. A trunk at the foot of the bed caught her attention, though upon inspection it only contained musty blankets and a few pillowcases. Eager to leave, she hurried back out to the main street. A poster nailed to the beauty shop caught her eye. Two photographs were at the top, subjects crossed out next to the scrawled words _They won't find you…_ In bold print was a missing persons notice. **Missing: Rose Sommerset and two daughters, Gwen and Charlotte Sommerset missing since August 6. The three individuals last seen the morn of August 6, approx. 7:15 AM by husband/father Reginald Sommerset, resident at 649 South Shore. Any information as to the whereabouts of said persons is requested by Blackpool Authorities. All substantial knowledge eligible for reward. Any questionable leads subject to extreme ridicule and derision. Mockery of law enforcement will not be tolerated. God save the Queen.** She continued down the street until she came to a point where in branched off into two paths. In between, wedged into the wall, was a stack of rocks. _It looks like these were placed intentionally,_ she mused. A realization dawned on her: the pickaxe in her bag. She quickly knelt, pulling the tool out of her satchel, and swinging it at the stones. After several hits the stones were reduced to a pile of rubble. Behind she found a stack of letters. She tore open a slightly damp, yellowed envelope.

 _Madelaine Ravenhearst—June 4_ _th_ _, 1895.  
Dearest Emma,  
I have written numerous letters with no response. I am extremely worried about your safety and do wish you would write or wire us immediately to tell us how you're fairing in England. The following news is difficult for me to type, but our dearest father has passed. His long-fought battle with the pox has ended in a loss for us all. PLEASE, PLEASE RETURN HOME! I am simply unable to manage the farm without your assistance.  
Your loving sister, Maddie._

A signature in flowing handwriting, similar to that in Emma's diary was written neatly at the bottom. _This looks like the missing correspondence Emma referenced in her diary…how awful…_ Josephine glanced ahead, looking as far down either tunnel as she could see, but they each ended in heavy darkness. She wandered forward a bit, picking up a small trowel off the ground and putting it in her bag. She had abandoned the pickaxe. Seeing nothing else of interest, she quickly turned back. She glanced around herself in the glowing lamp light and turned back, walking briskly through the antechamber, basement, and back out to the porch. The cool, wet air felt refreshing. Instinctually, she began wandering towards the garden. The rain was still torrential, a fact she practically ignored save for pushing a few damp strands of hair away from her face. In the shadows, a large stone sculpture of an angel loomed ahead. Moonlight filtered through its outstretch hands, casting the shadow of a cross. She turned to pass it; as she did, she noticed that the cross, if turned on its side, resembled the letter X. Eagerly she rummaged through her bag, careful to allow in as little rain as possible. She seized the trowel and began to frantically scoop at the sodden earth. Buried in several feet of dirt was a small plastic tube. With effort, she unscrewed the top and reached tentatively inside, pulling out a scrap of canvas. Printed on the canvas was a girl's face. _This must go with the painting in the beauty shop!_ She pelted towards the house, occasionally stumbling over a root or loose stone. Muddy, wet, and heaving breath, she made it back to Rose's Beauty Shoppe. She clambered up the stairs to the slashed portrait. Pressing it into place, the image became clear: a lock, much like she had seen in the antechamber, was depicted, though unlike the one she had encountered, the one in the picture had _yellow_ on top and _blue_ on the bottom, instead of vice versa, with red in the center. She fished in her pocket for the red marbles she had collected, finding only two of the necessary four. Aimlessly, she wandered back and forth down the street, finally turning into the general store. A light across the room blinked: a fuse box, modified in drastic contrast to the antique setting of 'Roseville'. She frowned in consternation and turned back to the front of the store. A cash register gleamed from a small desk, which, upon closer examination, bore a sign reading _Lucky 15._ Nine keys, numbered one through nine, were clipped to a three by three grid of pegs. She assumed that the numbers had to total fifteen in each row and column. She plucked each number, setting them down in a pile and pulled a rickety wooden stool up to the counter. Pensively, she chose three at a time, mentally counting to see if the sum was correct. After the better part of an hour (and picking them off the floor where she had scattered them in frustration), she finally came up with a correct grid. The only thing she found in the drawer after it had mechanically sprung open was another red marble and a slip of paper with the numbers 5392 written in uneven scrawl. For the first time, Josephine noticed a dingy iron grate. She tentatively nudged it open, half expecting a large pit of spikes to open from the floor beneath her or boiling oil to pour from the ceiling; after all, this was Charles Dalimar. Behind the grate was an antiquated elevator, easily fitting in with the theme of the abandoned underground metropolis: isolated, controlled, and confining. A poster in an upper corner read 'DO NOT TRY TO ESCAPE!' with a depiction of a stick-figure exiting out a door, marked over with a red slash. On one wall, near the intricately molded ceiling, was a locked panel with an image of a skull emblazoned onto it, a small knob, and a keyhole. An expired sack of flower harbored several large beetles and several crates of various jellies were stacked haphazardly. Most disturbing was a skeleton, draped in heavy cobwebs, wearing a tattered uniform of an elevator operator, slumped in a chair. Next to the deceased operator were several metal disks with an open hole in the center. _This is the contraption used to control the elevator, but it's missing the handle._ She unclipped her satchel and pulled out the lever she had found in the bathtub. She examined its end; it seemed the right size and shape to fit the operating mechanism. It fitted halfway into the socket before refusing to budge any farther.  
"Come _on_!" she leaned her weight into it, grunting with exasperation. After a moment, it snapped into place. She grabbed the end and torqued it. The elevator lowered slowly, jostling slightly. She examined the rough rock face sliding past her through the exit doors until the vessel landed in a damp cave on a wooden dock overlooking murky green waters. The cavern was large, lit by lamps similar to the ones she had seen in the town above her, and opened to the open waters (giving an excellent view of the still driving rain). Josephine exited the elevator and tested her weight on the wooden slats. _Stable enough._ A wooden cart held several crates and sacks labeled in red paint too worn to make out. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flit of movement from beneath the surface of the water. She turned just in time to see a snake- a very _large_ snake- fade into the gloom beneath the surface. A faint glow came from a metal grate nearby. She knelt down and examined it. The bars were formed to resemble thorny stems, the center, a rose. She could just make out a passage behind the bars. She picked the wrench from her bag and attempted to remove the bolts, only to find that they were too rusted to turn. Deciding to solve the conundrum of the grate later, she stood up and wandered along to the other end of the dock. The level of the water, she noted, was almost to the edge of the dock. _Blackpool, England is home of two things: Ravenhearst and never ending precipitation,_ she mused wryly. At the end of the dock was an old fashioned telescope. A coin slot was built into the base and the scope itself was aimed outside the cavern. She felt around in her pocket, hoping to find a coin. To her annoyance, she only had the thee red marbles. She continued following the path of the dock to where a small row boat was moored. _Maybe I can row out and find someone who can help me…or at least someone who has a coin._ She quickly dismissed this notion for three reasons: one being that she had been hired personally and considered it quite rude to leave for who knows how long to search for assistance, two being that if she had learned anything from this and her previous case it was that if one ever needs something to meet their needs, no matter how impractical, they would eventually find it in the manor, and three being that the boat itself was half sunk and full of clutter. A glint of gold stood out among the useless junk. She crouched, laying on her stomach and rolling up her sleeve, and plucked a gold key out of a bucket of slimy water. Cringing, she put the key in her pocket and attempted to dry her arm in her jeans. She turned back to the elevator and tried the newfound key on the locked panel; it didn't work. She pulled the lever, assuming that she would come back to the general store. Instead, the elevator lurched down even farther to another chamber, brightly lit with numerous torches and lanterns, but instead of the doors springing open as they had at the dock, the elevator lurched again before it had even fully stopped and brought her back to ground level. Perplexed, she jerked the lever again, wondering if there was a fault in the machinery. The second, third, and fourth attempts yielded the same results. Still bemused at the elevator, she strode back to the beauty parlor. She bounded up the stairs and tore open the bathroom door. She jammed the newfound key into the lock on the medicine cabinet and opened it delicately. Inside, tucked among the innumerable glass vessels, was a metal can reading 'Rust Remover'. After assuring herself that it was sealed tightly and would not leak, she tossed it into her bag. Josephine took the elevator back to the dock and made a beeline for the grate. She slathered the solution onto the stuck bolts. _I knew this would come in handy!_ She grinned as she grabbed the wrench out of her bag. The bolts turned with no resistance and the grate clattered loudly, echoing as it tipped over. She squirmed through the opening, landing on the dam stone floor in a crouch. She stood, dusting herself off, gazing at her surroundings. Several torches stood, pinioned to the walls of the cave by metal brackets. Like at the dock above, various stacks of supply boxes were placed in towering columns. Several ropes hung across the entrance to the main cavern; this would have been no problem to crawl under or step through, except that each rope was hung with several large bats. She pondered for a moment and pulled the horn she had found in the garden from her bag, raised it to her lips, and blew. A loud blast startled the creatures into awakening. After fluttering about excitedly for a moment, they retreaded further into the cave. She ducked under a rope and found herself in a large chamber. In the center was an open casket, lined with soft pink velvet. Inside the casket, with its head propped up slightly on a small pillow was a skeleton, wearing a white gown. Several matted, thorny vines interwoven with scarlet flowers threaten to envelope the skeleton and were already overtaking the odd contraption next to the coffin. Various pipes, some as big around as Josephine's leg, others the size of her finger, crisscrossed each other, pumping the same glowing fluid that was in the ceiling of the antechamber. _This must be Rose Sommerset's final resting place!_ The green fluid glowed brighter, drawing her attention to a panel, the upper edge of which was covered in dials, knobs, and wheels, each fluctuating rapidly. The majority of the panel was taken up by yet another peculiar lock, divided into a grid of squares. Four colored dots glowed, and four colored square sat at various intervals. She nudged a green square towards the green dot; instead of stopping, the square slid to the edge, as if pulled magnetically. She prodded it upwards; the square shot towards the upper edge. She sat down, folding her legs, staring thoughtfully at the puzzle. Her fingers worked slowly, pausing to evaluate each movement. Finally, the colored squared lined up with the corresponding dots. Instantly, the puzzle reset itself to a new configuration. This one, through still solvable, was more difficult. As before, once completed, the second puzzle rearranged itself. After she had solved the third, the puzzle shook slightly as it sunk back into the panel. She backed up, hoping for something to suddenly happen. To her surprise (and slight satisfaction), the fluid running through the pipes immediately ceased, as though someone had turned off the hose from which it came. The skeleton in the coffin flashed as though electrified, and slowly a woman, with the ethereal, misty quality of a ghost- the same one Josephine had encountered in the basement- sat up. She looked around, her eyes seeming almost to sparkle with delight as she addressed the detective.  
"After centuries of unrest I am finally free! Thank you!" Her expressions darkened. "Have you seen my daughters, Gwendolyn and Charlotte? Charles brought them here to toil in this evil place…"  
"I-I'm sorry, ma'am," Josephine's voice shook as she attempted to talk to the specter. "But…but I will help them, I promise you!"  
"Please, find them! I can't bear the thought of them-being tied to him!" Josephine stared, excited and also terrified. "Please, detective, deliver them from his cold and terrible hand!" Again, Rose faded away before her eyes. The skeleton which had been laid in the casket was also missing, leaving a red marble sitting on the pillow.


	4. Gwen and Charlotte

She pocketed the fourth marble and turned around back through the caverns. She scrambled up a stack of crates and crawled out of the opening where the grate had been. She rode the elevator back to the general store and half-ran to the antechamber. She turned excitedly to the left door and pressed each of the four red marbles into their slots. There were two buttons, one on each side of the contraption. She pressed one and the top ring rotated, moving the marbles one position over. She pressed the other button and the bottom ring moved equally. _I just have to move the marbles…I think there's a pattern…_ She pressed the buttons alternatingly, so as one yellow moved to the top, a blue moved to the bottom. After several rotations, the door swung open forcefully. She smiled at her handiwork and strode confidently forward. She wandered ahead into the cave, glowing lanterns hung from the rough stone ceiling. In front of her stood a rusted metal slide, a sandbox, a see-saw, and two buildings. The building closest to her was decked in flaking white paint and a sign reading 'Toys for Brats', the other an old fashioned bright red schoolhouse. _Why Charles kidnapped these poor people and trapped their souls in his underground complex is a mystery I intend to solve! Hold on, what…?_ As she stood surveying the new area, two figures materialized before her; they were two girls, each wearing identical ruffled dresses, hair bows, and holding hands. She shivered fearfully. The girl on the left spoke.  
"Have you seen our Mummy?" She had the same accent the Rose's spirit had.  
"It's so dark and cold down here, and we miss her very much," the girl on the right added.  
"I understand," Josephine said. "I saw her just a while ago, and she's sent me to go find you both!"  
"Please, don't leave us alone here! Don't leave us with him! Don't make us stay with Father!" Charlotte whimpered, her voice quivering. And with that, both Gwen and Charlotte disappeared. Josephine sunk to her knees, breathing deeply. _But he's not your father…You only think that because he's trapped you._ A bone chilling numbness began to overtake her, and beads of cold sweat formed on the back of her neck. Doing her best to ignore this sensation, she stood up slowly and shakily, determined to continue the investigation.  
"Don't worry," she said into the eerie silence. "I'll help you,"  
She turned to the sandbox, more full of discarded toys and other junk than actual sand. After pawing through, the only useful item she found was a funnel. She continued on to 'Toys for Brats'. At first glance, it appeared innocent, sweet even, with every kind of toy a child could wish for. Upon closer inspection, she noticed tags bearing information such as 'Made with 100% Asbestos' and 'Top-Quality Lead Paint'. A sputtering light was mounted over a display case of various dolls. She peered at the figures and could almost swear that some of them blinked as see grabbed an old fuse out of one of their hands. She pocketed the fuse and went into a back room where she found numerous dolls, puppets, and other toys in the process of being built or repaired. All of the chipped paint, blank eyes, and smiling stares made her skin crawl. She crossed the room to closer examine a desk, covered in strange mechanical tools, wood shavings, scraps of cloth, and jars of paint which had been left open to dry into hard lumps. She picked up a hammer and tucked it into her satchel. She turned around and saw a wall-mounted dial phone. She stood in front of it, staring the contraption down as if expecting it to speak to her; she dialed a number, though a hiss and a low crackle told her that the wire had been severed. She tried a door covered in chipped brown paint near the phone. She rattled the loose knob a few times and even dealt a few well-aimed kicks at the frame work, though the ingress simply wouldn't budge. She sighed in frustration and lightly blew a loose strand of hair from her face. She turned and tried another door on her other side. This one luckily opened with ease and led her down a narrow staircase to what looked to be a basement. Several large barrels dripped a disgusting liquid into several pools forming on the dusty ground. A dead mouse was laying stiffly in a corner behind some boxes, and a pathetic looking teddy bear was chained to the wall next to the window. She walked toward it, careful not to step in any of the slimy looking puddles, and prodded its middle. To her shock, she felt a hard lump, as if someone had stuffed something inside the plush toy. She reached for her bag, though there was nothing useful for dissecting a stuffed animal. She glanced to the barred window and noted the side of the schoolhouse (which she had yet to explore); more importantly, she noted a cellar door on the side of the building. Turning aside (and nearly knocking her head against one of the several low-hanging lanterns), she approached an oddly shaped lump beneath a dingy white sheet. Josephine jerked it off with both hands, sending a cloud of dust directly into her sinuses. After recovering from her sudden sneeze attack, she saw what the thing had been: a 'Whack a Troll' game. _This looks fun._ She took up the mallet and shifted the shining red lever forward. Immediately, several trolls, each painted with a sneer, poked their heads up from a series of holes on the board. She smacked at one and missed it. She whacked another, pounding it with the mallet. She score board lit up with the number five. She hit another, this one colored purple. The score increased. Eventually, a loud metallic clang sounded, startling her. The board changed to display _Game Over! Play Again! 100 Points to WIN!_ She tried again, this time reaching a score of sixty five. On her third try, she reached the target. A coin slid out of one of the trolls' mouths. She tucked it away for safe keeping. As she came back to the foot of the stairs, she saw a box mounted on the wall labeled in faded scrawl _Telephone_. It was crawling in large, shiny, brown roaches. She backed up, cringing. She bolted up the stairs and back out to the playground. She advanced to the schoolhouse's cellar door she had seen from the basement. _400°_ was scratched into the wood, along with another odd locking mechanism. This one was a metal plate with a circle of round buttons on it. She pressed one; it remained depressed. She pressed again; it released. _Surely there's a pattern I need to find. It probably has to do with 400°._ She wandered in circles around the schoolhouse until deciding the next best course of action was to try the front door. She ascended the creaky wooden steps and tentatively opened the door. Inside it was too dark to make out anything but the silhouettes of a few desks and something crouching in the back corner. She fumbled in the dark for a light switch. _Great. I bet the light switch is in the cellar._ She grunted and meandered back to the toy shop. She realized for the first time that there was a stove with a pipe crawling up through the ceiling in a darkened corner. Excited, she ran to it and crouched to examine. On the top was a circle of burners in the same configuration as the cellar lock. She smiled, anticipation mounting. She reached for one of the handles for temperature control jutting out of the side. As her fingers grazed the metal, she gasped in pain. The handles were red hot! She cradled her hand and nursed her burnt fingers. Luckily, it seemed that the burn would not be particularly dangerous. She marched back out to the playground and looked to where a tunnel led. Warm light emanated from just ahead of her. She tried futilely to brush some of the mud off of her pants and came towards what looked exactly like the gingerbread house from _Hansel and Gretel,_ though with a few ominous details added. Inedible lollypops as tall as fence posts stuck out of the ground, the windows looked as though they were made of colored sugar, and sugar coated spice drops lined a pathway to the entrance. A large frowning gingerbread man stood leaned against a mailbox whose door read POST in what looked like white icing. She opened it and pulled out its contents, a newspaper clipping.

 **Sommerset Funeral Mass Held  
An open-coffin funeral mass was held today at the home of Reginald Sommerset of 649 South Shore for his wife, Rose Sommerset and daughters, Gwendolyn and Charlotte Sommerset. The three individuals have been missing since August 6, 1895 in one of the most peculiar cases that Blackpool authorities have ever seen. A stoic Mr. Sommerset delivered the eulogy and stressed that the ceremonial burial will bring great relief to family members who have longed for closure in this tragic matter.**

Josephine was appalled. She shoved the clip back into the mail box furiously and more than a bit alarmed. She turned around and took a deep breath in through her nose, concentrating on the damp, earthy smell of the cavern. Directly in front of her was a sign, attached to a candy cane-striped post. Perched atop it was a garishly painted clown, wearing a smirk.

 **Eight Simple Rules for the Incarceration of my Twin Daughters:**

 **ABSOLUTELY NO OUTSIDE COMMUNICATION!**

 **Don't touch Daddy's locks, you little creeps**

 **Children will remain inside when not working on the Device**

 **Keep the noise down because Daddy has a headache and works long hours**

 **I built you a giant doll house, go play in it**

 **Escape is overrated**

 **No broccoli until you finish the cauliflower**

 **The beating of your hearts only fuels my essence**

It reminded her of the _Standard Procedure_ posted in Roseville, but more aggressive. Obviously, the only reasons for Gwen and Charlotte's imprisonment was for the Device, whatever that was supposed to be. She wandered up the gingerbread-paved walkway. The door was, as she had expected, sealed. This device consisted of four overlapping wooden disks, which, when aligned correctly, formed and image. The challenge was to rotate the disks into alignment; each time one disk spun a full rotation, one might go halfway in the opposite direction while another might only shift a quarter in the same direction. After a while of ponderously attempting to form a picture of a gloomy faced boy in a sailor suit, the door swung open so forcefully that it sent tremors through the walls. She slowly stepped inside. Despite the saccharine exterior, the interior of the house was relatively close to what one would expect of a playroom for girls of Charlotte and Gwendolyn's ages; an odd collection of dolls and animals sat around a set tea table, each wearing some sort of bonnet, crown, or ribbon. Some of the tea party guests included a rooster hitched to a pram, a partially decapitated teddy bear wearing a top hat, and a periwinkle colored rabbit whose eyes had been replaced by a pair of jingle bells. From the ceiling hung shackles, spikes, and pitchforks. They were eerily similar to the ones in the General Store, though a bit smaller. She stared up at the ghastly monstrosities in horror. In the fireplace was a roaring fire. It seemed odd, though, considering that everything in the house was draped in heavy cobwebs and the dust was so think that Josephine had left footprints on her way in. _I wonder who lit that fire…perhaps the mysterious person who I had heard upstairs?_ She scanned the table and selected a woven potholder from underneath the teapot. A low, indistinct noise sounded from around the corner and down a hallway. She froze, terrified. _What if that someone is still here? What if it's Charles?_ She stood up a bit straighter.  
"Hello?" she called out, her voice shaking slightly. She rounded the corner with the painful kind of slowness that comes from being too cautious. An electric light buzzed overhead, letting of a steady, pale light. A door stood opposite, covered in nicks and scratches. Holes had been torn out of the walls and various messages, mostly _Help us!_ and _Let us go!,_ had been gouged into the baseboard and floor. In crayon, a particular space in the wall was labeled _Kitty's House._  
"Psst, over here!" Josephine whirled around. Behind her, beginning to appear once again, were the ethereal spirits of Gwen and Charlotte.  
"You must be mindful of Father," began Charlotte.  
"We mustn't tamper with the locks or we may be punished again," added Gwen with a small shiver. "We must remember that we are tied to him forever, so he may continue to be free!"  
"Please, free us from him!" Just as they had before, the ghosts faded away.


	5. The Bottom of the Well

Josephine shuffled her foot, making a spot in the rug as she took a moment to piece herself together. Behind the wall she heard a skittering and a low feline growl, assumedly the kitty whose house was in the wall. She continued down the hallway and stopped at what resembled a lift built into the wall. A small sign had been nailed up bearing the inscription _watch your fingers._ A panel had been connected to the lift and the lid had been removed to reveal a pair of severed wires. She pinched them together, hoping they would stay connected; they didn't. She turned from the lift and came to the door. Another puzzle had been rigged to it, a series of tiles threaded onto wires that had been strung around some gears. She smartly tapped one of the tiles. It flipped over to reveal a symbol. She tapped another to reveal another. She continued on, attempting to match the odd shapes. After several failed attempts, the gears began to spin, tugging the tiles into an entirely new configuration. She growled in frustration, realizing that this would pose much more of a challenge than she had trusted. She spent perhaps half an hour until she heard the heavy click signifying that the door was unlocked. She pushed it open and entered the twins' bedroom. The walls were painted a sickly shade of pink and a large window adorned one of the walls. Several rocking horses, dolls, and other toys. A dollhouse was sitting partially opened on a nightstand between two immaculately made beds. A crib was shoved against the wall near the window with a name painted on it, but the letters had been scraped away. She opened the dollhouse and peered inside. Aside from several cobwebs, miniature furniture, and several posed figurines, the only noticeable thig was another typewriter key, the letter S. Josephine tried to open the closet in the back of the room, but found it impossible due to the fact the it was missing a doorknob. Still wondering what could be so important in the closet that someone saw fit to seal the door, she noticed a drawing tacked to the wall. On closer inspection, it was a sketch of two girls, a man, and a boy, both of whom were smiling evilly at the girls. The man, labeled _Father,_ looked as though he was patting the boy on the shoulder. The edge of the paper had been torn away, leaving the only clue as to the boy's identity _brother._ Deciding that there was nothing else to do at the moment, she walked back to the toy shop. Pulling the pot holder from her bag she turned the stove temperature to 400°. Slowly, several of the burners began to glow. She hurried to the cellar door at the schoolhouse and punched in the pattern she had seen on the stove burners. She opened to door and leapt down into the cellar. A blackboard dominated one wall, a smashed pile of wooden crates was against another. In a corner, a large barrel dripped a solution which smelled strongly of gasoline. A sharpening stone without a belt lay on its side on the floor. She stood it upright and fitted it with the machine belt she had found in the trunk on the porch. She crawled back out of the cellar and strolled up the path to the antechamber. She faced the third locked door and placed the S key on the typewriter. She then proceeded to Roseville, hoping to make more progress in her investigation. She entered the General Store and went around behind the counter, hoping to find some detail that she had missed before. She was happy to find another typewriter key, though she could have sworn that it hadn't been there before. She crossed over to the cash register. As it had been earlier, the slip of paper with the numbers 5392 was in the drawer. She glanced up at the opposite wall: the fuse box. An idea struck her. She raced across the room and examined the apparatus. There were four slots for numbers. She entered the code from the cash register. The lid opened, revealing a series of fuses, labeled _storage, salon, main, school,_ and _lift._ The space for the fuse labeled _school_ was empty. She rummaged around for the fuse she had unearthed earlier and snapped it into place. On a hunch, Josephine went back to the schoolhouse. As she had expected, several lights had blinked to life when she had placed the fuse. Two desks sat in the middle of the room, facing a blackboard and a human skeleton on display. Someone had painted over a good portion of the board, hoping to block something out. The skeleton was labeled with arrows reading _poor Kevin! This could be you…_ A rope hung from the ceiling; she tugged it; she could hear the school bell ringing. She opened the lid of one of the desks and began rummaging inside, looking for something useful. Concealed under a pile of mismatched odds and ends was a can of spray-on bug repellant. She smiled, grabbed it, and went back to the toy shop, down to the basement, and over to the phone. After profusely (perhaps even excessively) spraying the beetles with toxins, she opened to box. Inside was not a phone, but a tangle of bulbs and wires. A note had been pinned to the side of the board: _light in continuous path._ She stared for a moment, mentally tracing a line from one end to another. Once she felt that she had adequately designed a trail of bulbs, she put her idea to the test. The lights flashed spastically. She ascended the staircase and tested the telephone. As she dialed a number, a slip of folded paper fluttered out from behind the phone. It was a series of phone numbers. She tried each one, but to no avail. She shrugged and began to leave. She saw in the display case of dolls a doorknob. She seized it and took off at a jog to the gingerbread house and to the knob-less closet door. Flinging it open, she anticipated something so obviously useful, exiting, and wonderful…to her disappointment, there was only the typical moth-ridden accoutrements. Unexpectedly, though, was the fresh scent of ocean air and rain wafting through the wall. Not exactly knowing what she had in mind, she unpinned a poster at the base of the wall. To her surprise, behind the poster was a lather large hole in the wall, leading out to a view of the bay and the cliffs she had seen from the clearing past the graveyard. _They must have dug an escape tunnel through the rock!_ On the back of the discarded poster was a phone number. Josephine quickly scrawled the digits on a page of her notebook and set off at a brisk pace to the toy shop. She dialed it on the phone in the backroom….but nothing happened. She made sure that she heard the dial tone before dialing the number. Still nothing. The third try, however, yielded the desired result: the door next to the telephone, the one which had previously refused to budge, slowly swung open. She entered, carefully treading across the packed earth floor. A broken rocking horse, its head sitting at an odd angle, seemed to stare ominously at nothing. A large gap in the brick wall, as though it had been blown away, revealed the bottom of the well that she had noticed on her way into the manor. An iron bracket poking out of the ground, tied with the frazzled end of a piece of rope, suggested someone attempting to climb down from the surface. Pale moonlight shown down, turning the continuous rain shower silver. Her attention was brought to a wooden bucket tied to a rope, ensnared in a tangle of ivy. _I wonder if there's anything useful in there…_ She reached for it, straining on her toes, but the bucket remained out of reach. She looked around forlornly until the end of a stick poking out of her satchel caught her eye. She pulled it out and began prodding the bottom of the pail. Eventually, it swung freely, though still out of reach. Josephine, struck with an idea, marched back through the schoolyard, the antechamber, the basement, and out of the smashed window to the well. She turned the crank, grunting with the exertion, until the bucket was close enough to grab. After she had poured out the rain water, she snatched what it had been concealing: a knife. To test its sharpness, she slashed at a tendril of ivy growing around the base of the well. For all the results, she might as well have been prodding it with a stick. Sighing, she quickly retreated back inside. She crawled through the window and back down to the playground. She climbed back down into the cellar and approached the sharpening stone. She sharpened the blade, and soon had a useful weapon and tool. She climbed out of the cellar and sat down on a dilapidated bench in front of the schoolhouse until she could decide what to do next. Finally, she decided to explore the gingerbread house more thoroughly. The clown sitting on the signpost gave her the creeps; she shivered as she passed under its watchful eyes. Once inside, she collected an empty jar from the tea table. Deeming that there were no more useful inventory to collect, she left back to the cellar. She filled the jar with gasoline from the dripping oil tankard. She felt around in her pocket, hoping that she would find some other item that required her urgent attention. To her satisfaction she found one: a typewriter key X. She trotted back to the antechamber and attached it to the third door. She went back to Roseville, hoping that she had missed something in her previous searches. She picked through the corner of the beauty parlor behind the scrim. Wedged into the torn upholstery of the chaise was another key, M. She took it and hurried back to the antechamber, snapping it into place on the typewriter. She grinned as she noticed that only two letters were separating her from opening the door. She hurried back to her task, searching the beauty parlor. She continued up to the bedroom, but, upon finding nothing useful, combed through the bathroom instead. To her delight, she found a roll of electrical tape sitting on the edge of the tub. _Either I missed this before or someone's trying to help me…_ Tape in hand, Josephine hurried back to the gingerbread house, to the lift. She attached the severed wires and pressed the button. The lift appeared, carrying an apple core hardly distinguishable as anything that may have once been edible, and a coil of rope. She took the rope and shoved it into her bag pressed the button again. The lift disappeared. Cold air wafted up from the shaft, chilling her fingers. _Hmm._ She strode pensively to the secret chamber behind the toy shop and tied the rope around the bracket, dropping the other end into the well. She took a deep breath and, trying very hard not to look at the water beneath her, slid slowly down the rope until her feet met solid ground (albeit, very _wet_ solid ground). Across from her was a sealed door. Sighing, she waded through the knee-deep freezing water and began to work the lock. A grid of symbols was carved underneath a long rectangle. She tapped a symbol quizzically. Immediately, a figure carved with another design began to glide across the rectangle. She tapped its symbol. A second one appeared, this one faster. She tapped its design. The figure kept coming back and forth, gaining speed, sometimes changing their direction mid-way across. Once she had collected four signs, the door unlocked with a heavy and important-sounding click. She forced open the door and slipped into the chamber. Inside was a dark and silent as a tomb, and nearly as cold.  
"He built an entire underground metropolis…but didn't think to add lights to _every room_?" she snorted. She heaved herself back up the rope and trudged back into the backroom of the toy shop. Josephine sat down heavily on a bench, sighing loudly. _I suppose I'll find something eventually…maybe a flashlight, or a box of matches, or a candle._ She turned and descended the stairs to the basement. Standing on the landing at the bottom, she let her eyes flit around the room, landing on all the pieces of discarded junk or tarp-covered furniture. She smiled at the stuffed bear chained to the wall. Suddenly, an idea hit her: the knife. She flung it open, searching for the knife that she had sharpened earlier. She raced across the room and attacked the toy with gusto, seizing handfuls of stuffing, looking for whatever had been tucked inside. She found a box of matches. She struck on, and it flared. Thrilled, she hurried back to the chamber she had unearthed in the well. She lit a match and found that its dim, orangey glow could just illuminate three towering gargoyles and a pair of torches mounted to the wall behind. She lit one of the torches, and the room was flooded with bright, orange light. Now that she could see clearly, she noted that each of the gargoyles was holding a wooden shape, and each she had a series of trenches carved through them in a crisscrossing pattern. She prodded one of the statues' stone mouths. A blue, glass orb dropped onto one of the holes. She nudged it along one path, across another, and back to the start. Nothing happened. She attempted a different path, carefully observing which paths she crossed and in which order; quite suddenly, the sculpture fell into the floor as if the floor beneath it had disappeared. _Ah. I get to use each path once._ Behind the other two statues, she could see _something_ beginning to emerge from the floor. She tried to glance around and see it closer, but a carved wings and tails formed an impassible barrier. She solved the middle puzzle, and watched carefully is it fell away and the _thing_ rose slightly more into view. Now getting the hang of it, she plowed through the third design. The mysterious 'thing' turned out to be a fourth gargoyle, this one holding a pair of small- _child sized_ \- coffins, attached to a tangle of pipes, much like the ones that had surrounded Rose Somerset in death. She tentatively prodded the lid. It sprung open. The ghosts of Gwen and Charlotte appeared, hand in hand.  
"Thank you, dear friend, for freeing us from these chains and showing us the path to our Mummy!"  
"You're welcome." Josephine said, practically beaming, though slightly disconcerted.  
"Please, be careful," warned Charlotte, "We can feel Father coming home, and he will be very upset with us."  
"And watch out for our awful brother as well!" added Gwendolyn. "Our brother Victor is as evil as Father!"  
"Your brother's name is Victor?" asked Josephine, wanting to be certain. Gwen nodded solemnly.  
"I'll be sure to mind myself," she said somewhat uncertainly.  
"Good bye, detective, and good luck."

 **AN:** So...as you may know, I was writing this as I played the game. however, midway into the next chapter, there was a glitch, and useful item that was supposed to be accessible was not appearing, so I had to uninstall and reinstall MCF: Return to Ravenhearst. This means that I will have to replay up to the point I was at, which was rather far along. Quite frustrating. However, once that is done, there will be more chapters put up. In the meantime, reviews are greatly encouraging and appreciated. Thank you!


	6. Cable Car

She rushed back to the antechamber, tracking well water behind her. Upon checking the typewriter on the final door, she noticed that there were only two spaces left. Not sure where to begin searching, Josephine turned back to Roseville. On her way into the general store, her foot caught against the edge of a loose board and she stumbled, sprawling on the dusty floor. A coin rolled out of her pocket, skidding across the ground. She seized it and, with a sudden idea striking her, she clambered into the elevator and jerked the crank to lower to the dock.

The air was brisk, bordering on downright cold. She half ran to the telescope at the end of the dock and fumbled as she pushed the coin into the slot. She pressed her eye to the lens, squinting. Meticulously she adjusted several dials back and forth until a buoy came into view, bobbing up and down on the increasingly choppy waves. Several numbers and a symbol for the suit of clubs were painted in bright yellow on the side. She jotted them down in her notebook and went back along the dock. Sitting on the boat, on one of the benches in a spot cleared of clutter, was a typewriter key. Josephine pocketed the letter T and rode the elevator back up to the general store, trudged through the main street, and placed the T on the typewriter. She noted happily that there was only one letter left to be placed. She took off back into the depths of Roseville at a brisk trot and climbed the stairs of the beauty parlor to the bedroom. She took pause, scanning the room until her eyes landed on the nightstand. She reached into her bag and pulled out the hammer, immediately setting to work on the nailed drawer. With a final tug, it eased open with surprising smoothness. Inside were a few tarnished pieces of jewelry, an empty ring box, and a bottle of paint remover, which she added to her bag. Remembering the paint smeared on the blackboard in the schoolhouse, Josephine set off at once. Upon arriving, she carefully poured the solution onto a stray scrap of cloth and scrubbed at the paint, revealing a sequence of overlapping triangles, each with numbers written in the corners and a diamond in the center. She copied down the pattern, hoping that perhaps she would find it useful later. She yawned and stretched her arms, suddenly remembering how late it was.

Josephine strolled back through the house and outside, thinking that the cool, damp air would refresh her. Luckily, she had assumed correctly, and found herself feeling much more chipper after a stroll through the garden. On her way back to the house, she caught sight of a glimmering piece of metal sticking from between two stone in the path. Upon further inspection, it proved itself to be a screwdriver. _Surely I am going to need this…_ Making another sweep of the various underground complexes, she saw, tucked under a stuffed dog's ear, a final typewriter letter: R. squeezing it into her palm, she took off frantically for the antechamber and pressed it onto its rightful peg. _All keys must proceed in his name._ Knowing the final piece of information she needed, she pressed the keys with sharp _clack-click-clack-DING!_ to spell 'Victor Dalimar' in neat, angular font. As if possessed, the keys rose and fell, spelling out for her a message of approval: 'You may proceed'. She grabbed the ornate brass handle and pulled the door open cautiously. When there was no immediate threat, she entered, taking in her surroundings.

The chamber was largely open cave, seemingly angled upward from sea level. A cable car was docked at the end of a metal grated bridge, the wire running to a dock surrounded by choppy waves. The car itself looked as though it had seen better days, with fading orange paint and junk heaped on the roof. The door hung limply off its hinges. Josephine hooked one arm through the open window and swung her foot up the catch it on one of the bulky door hinges. She used the openings on the windows and the decorative gate on the roof like a climbing wall and hoisted herself up to examine the junk pile. She picked through tossing useless items back onto the bridge. The only object deemed as having a possible use appeared to be a paint scraper. She tucked it away into her bag. She jumped back down, landing shakily. A panel, bare of paint, caught her attention. Though there was about an inch of space where the metal had caved in around something, she couldn't manage to pry it open, despite attempting to lever it open with her bare hands, a stray metal spike, and the paint scraper. After several minutes of attempting to remove the plate, she wedged the end of the screwdriver under the edge and torqued on the handle, causing the plate to fly off the car, over the edge of the bridge, and plummet into the abyss below. Looking back to the removed plate, she was confronted with a large black fuel cap; she removed it, and attempted to pour some fuel from the jar in her bag, but found the task next to impossible without spilling. She rummaged around, turning the lining of her bag inside out before she found the metal funnel. She fitted it to the fuel opening and poured the jar's contents in. She jostled the door enough to squeeze herself through. The inside of the carriage was decorated in lavish Victorian style, with a hanging lamp, velvet settee, and luxurious rug. A silver key, which Josephine pocketed for later use, was sitting out on the beautifully carved end table. The cable car inched along its track, finally coming to a grinding halt at the bottom. Josephine exited the car, the crisp breeze tugging at her in all directions. High sea cliffs rose forebodingly in front of her, the night sky blanketed in rain clouds. The downpour had let up a bit to a light drizzle. A lighthouse and a cottage with smoking chimney were perched on the clifftops above and a wrecked rowboat was smashed on the rocks in front of her. A lamp post was sputtering dimly, caked with dirt and salt blown in on the breeze, posted with a sign reading in bright red lettering: WARNING! PRIVATE PROPERTY! TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SORRY!

 _I have a bad feeling about this…_

 **AN:** Things are up and running again! I will try (when I am not exceedingly busy with school, chores, the approaching holiday season, and other activities) to update with some regularity. Reviews make me happy!


	7. The Cottage on the Cliff

Uncertainly, she paced across the dock to the foot of a set of stone stairs carved into the cliff face. Stone carvings were just visible under layers of barnacles. She seized the paint scraper firmly and grating at the crusting. Once etched away, the carved heads of several ravens were revealed. She studied them, noting the different angles to which they pointed and continued on up the stairs, coming to a large gap. She groaned at the inconvenience and turned to the column next to her. A grid of tiles, each depicting a raven's head similar to the ones at the bottom of the stairs, adorned one side with the inscription _As the Crow Flies._ She thumbed one row of tiles; they slid easily in both columns and rows. She bounded down the stairs, two at a time, snatching up her notebook as she did so. At the bottom, she made a quick sketch of arrows indicating the way the heads pointed, bounded back up, and set to work. Fingers working quickly, she slid the tiles to match the pattern on the staircase, and, with an ominous click, the gap was suddenly bridged by several more steps suddenly bursting from the abyss. Reluctantly, Josephine trekked the steep staircase.

At the top of the unpleasant climb was a cottage, probably quaint and even inviting under other circumstances. The stone façade was slick and dark from rain, and all the windows were dark except one, lit with flickering light. A chimney was puffing a trail of grey smoke against the blue slate sky. A crack of lightening split the sky, and as if cued, the rain increased from a sprinkling to a downpour. A raven sitting on the low stone wall glared and cawed, startling her from her reverie with a jolt. The door stood a crack open, giving Josephine the familiar prickle on the back of her neck she had come to associate with danger, particularly with that of Ravenhearst Manor; the same feeling that had welled up in her when entering Roseville for the first time, before finding Rose and the Twins' skeletons, and even back as far as discovering the final entry in Emma Ravenhearst's diary. She took a quavering breath, raised a fist to block any ambush attack, and shoved the door open. "One…two…three!" she rammed against it with all the force she could muster. The door held fast, refusing to budge more than the crack it already was

Deciding that perhaps there was another entrance which was not so tightly sealed, she wandered to the side of the house. At the back, there was a small shop room. Like so many other doors, there was a puzzle locking it. _The harder a door is to open, the more important whatever's inside is._ The puzzle was a grid of squares each with several dots. Along the outside of the square was a border of dominoes. Relieved even further, she sought out each domino in the grid, glad of a simple seek-and-find game instead of the infinitely more complex options she had encountered. Once solved, the mechanism fell to the floor with a loud _clank._ The shop door edged open to reveal a dank, pitch dark room. _I'll take my chance with the front door,_ Josephine decided. It wasn't that she was so scared, but she would rather wait until she had a light. She paced around to the front again, examining the door, which was already cracked open. She lifted what looked like the lid of an opening to see inside, only to find another lock. Josephine took a heaving gasp and laughed a high, squealing laugh, like a lunatic, overcome with relief. She stood, grinning idiotically at the keyhole as she found a key in her pocket. Suddenly overcome with apprehension once again, she slowly fit the key into the lock. With a low _click_ she turned it. The door eased open slightly more. Again she took an unsteady breath and rammed the door forcefully open with her shoulder.

She stumbled into the room, panting. Getting her bearings, Josephine took in the small room, a rag rug on the floor, and a fire blazing in the stone fireplace across the room from her. An elderly man, white haired and grizzled, sat in a rocking chair with his back to her. Noticing the sudden intrusion, he turned just enough to see her.

"Who's that coming in here?" he said, somewhere between a rasp and a growl, "I didn't invite nobody in here!" He rose to his feet, turning to address her. "You're that stinker, aren't you?" he said in a tone more authoritative than questioning. His lips curled into a serpentine grin. "You drove my daddy nuts!" he had a wild look about him, like one with lunacy. "He's still alive. Aren't you happy about that?" Josephine was frozen to the spot, too startled to do more than stand and gape. The wild man took a few steps closer. "Yes? He thought you would be…and he told me just what to do with people like you!" he seized the ash shovel from the hearth and with surprising deftness, swung it like a baseball bat, bringing it down with a crack against the side of Josephine's head. Her world tilted as pinpoints of light flooded her vision, quickly edging into darkness as she felt herself falling to the ground. "He'll be back shortly, detective. He'll be back…" his words were lost in a thick fog as the world gave way to black.

 **A/N:** I finally updated! Huzzah! A big thank you to all you people out there who have favorited, commented, followed, etc. me or this story. You all make me happy :)

In answer to some recent questions/suggestions, yes, I plan to write for the three other MCF: Ravenhearst games when I have more time to write, which will probably not be for a while. I also plan to do Madame Fate and Fate's Carnival, and possibly one or both of the Dire Grove games.

Thank you all :)


	8. Trapped Again

**I'm back!**

Josephine opened her eyes slowly, cautiously. Her head was pounding and her whole body felt heavy. _What happened?_ She took note of her surroundings: apparently, she was in an attic. The boards seemed to be sagging in several places, and all sorts of bric-a-brac was piled around her. Several shackles and chains hung from the ceiling, covered in patches of rust, presumably from a drips of rain that seeped in from the roof. Josephine's mind flitted back to Roseville, remembering the devices hanging from the ceiling of the general store. _I doubt that I'm the only one who's been held captive up here._ She tried to bring a hand to the side of her head to examine it, but she quickly discovered that her hands were tied. Luckily, she found that the rope was well worn and managed to scoot over to a jagged board sticking out of the floor and saw them off reasonably quickly. Even more fortuitous, she found her bag tossed haphazardly against a wall. She crawled around for a few minutes, searching for a trap door; she did find one, only to discover that it was, of course, locked. _I've got to find a key or a pick or something…_ Josephine crept over to a corner where a bare light bulb hummed shrilly, casting a dingy orange glow over a pile of junk. Picking through a mound of rubbish, she came across a gilded hair pin. _Aha! Time to put some of those basic sleuthing skills to good use…_ She began to pick apart the lock, carefully prodding the mechanics until it sprang open.

She flung open the trap door and jumped, landing crouched in a dimly lit hallway. It looked, she supposed, like it could have been cozily decorated at some point. The carpet was a deep red, and the walls were covered in peeling and faded strips of floral printed wall paper. Piles of junk, old picture frames, wooden pallets, an accordion, and a broken chair were heaped at various intervals draped in cobwebs. She turned to a door leaning at an awkward angle and entered a library. Bookshelves lined the room and in one corner sat a quill and pad of paper, a gramophone without a record, and a lit candle which had been stuck through a large crack in what appeared to be a human skull. Josephine shuddered. She took a closer look at one of the shelves; a small framed portrait of Emma Ravenhearst, several cracked figurines, a stack of books with spines so worn down that the titles were illegible, and a reel of film. She frowned, bemused as to why a film reel would make its way into such a decrepit old building, and tucked it into her bag.

She left the library, and began to explore another room, this one obviously meant to be a theater of some sort. Several wooden chairs were arranged in rows, and a red velvet curtain was held together by a cord. An old film projector stood on a tripod opposite the curtain. _This probably hasn't been used in ages._ She mounted the reel of film and opened the curtains to reveal, as she had expected, a projector screen. Josephine turned to dial on the projector and a fuzzy image began to appear. As the film became more distinct, Josephine could see victor, sitting in front of a book case, reading a volume labeled _Time Transversal,_ periodically scratching his head or rubbing his nose. _I need to pay him another visit!_ He stood up and left the screen for a moment, revealing a series of designs that looked as though they had been etched into the spines of several books. Quickly, Josephine copied the order into her notebook, certain that they were a code of some sort.

She walked back to the library, her head throbbing gently. Turning to a book shelf, the symbols on the books were instantly recognizable from the film, though quite out of order. Quickly, she began to switch them around, reordering them to match the pattern. The book case slid suddenly to the side with such force that the wall trembled, knocking bits of plaster to the floor, revealing an alcove. Inside was an axe, the blade stained a faded red-brown color. The memory of Emma Ravenhearst's diary page, stained a similar color, came to mind with a shiver. She came back to the theater, and noticed a distinct draft coming in from the boarded up window. She swung the axe over her head and began to hack away at the boards, sending wood chips flying about the room.

Smiling at her handiwork, Josephine climbed out onto the roof. Judging from the bleak view, she was back at Ravenhearst Manor. The shingles were dangerously slick from rain, but she managed to crawl across to the porch overhang where she had placed the later earlier in the evening. Thanking the fortunate stroke of serendipity, she shimmied down the ladder, relieved to have escaped. The moment was disrupted as a bolt of lightning split the sky, startling her. Running back across the porch, through the sitting room, basement, and antechamber, she boarded the cable car and rode it to the bottom, unease gnawing at her stomach as she attempted to smooth down the front of her sweater and tuck back a few strands of loose hair. With a jolt, the car came to a stop. At the bottom, she hurried briskly across the dock and up the stairs to the cottage, attempting futilely to shield herself from the rain. The lights had been turned off and the door was firmly closed. _Maybe there's another door._ She suddenly remembered the shop room she had unlocked before her unfortunate encounter with Victor. She trotted to the back door and entered in, fumbling for a light switch. Finally finding one, a dull white light flooded the room. Blinking to adjust, Josephine took in her surroundings; various garden tools hung on the untreated walls and large bundles of dead weeds were piled into a sack. A sink and dresser were shoved against the back wall, and a small dusty widow allowed in an occasional flash of light from the circling beam of a nearby lighthouse. She crossed to the cabinet above the sink, like so many other aspects of Ravenhearst in a state of disrepair, and began to rifle through, finally finding a small metal heart, apparently tarnished silver, set with a large ruby. _Interesting; something so obviously fine, amongst this debris, and if I know the Dalimars, this was almost definitely placed for a reason._

 **Reviews are lovely!**


	9. Lower Level

**Hello again! I'm back!**

Josephine quickly left for the warm glow of the cottage, not even bothering to shield herself from the spitting rain. Inside, she scampered up the stairs, hoping to find something of use on the second level. Certain she was alone in the house, she gently opened the first door she found; it was a bedroom, lit by sputtering lamps, yet having an inexplicably ominous sense about it. Several sepia portraits in heavy frames hung above the bed, and exposed beams lined the ceiling and walls. An abandoned tripod sat facing a dusty window, and hung on a slight tilt was an illegibly smudged frame with an official looking document. Feeling around in her bag, she pulled out a damp rag and began to scrub at the grime, frowning as the letters became more visible.

 **TICKET OF PATIENT ADMITANCE  
** ** _PROVINCIAL LUNATIC ASYLUM OF MANCHESTER, ENGLAND  
IN ACCORDANCE TO PARLIAMENT ACT 18 IN VICTORIA, NO. 114  
(Note: Idiots and persons afflicted with paralysis are inadmissible to asylum)  
_** _No. 912 C Secretarial Office, Manchester, Nov. 6, 1884  
Admittance of patient _CHARLES DALIMAR _to Asylum as patient with abnormality  
_ Patient afflicted with severe delusions of grandeur and lock/key obsession.  
Patient believes in magical device used to manipulate the deceased.  
Suggest bleeding/leech purging and shock therapy.  
PATIENT TO REMAIN BOUND AND SEDATED AT ALL TIMES.  
 **Name:** SAMUEL BODKIN  
 **Admitted on application of:** ABIGAIL R. DALIMAR

A row of skulls were drawn along the bottom edge, each slightly differing. Josephine took a moment to carefully copy the designs into her notebook, continuing to frown at the application. _It certainly seems an accurate depiction of Charles to be delusional, and it certainly seems an accurate depiction of the Dalimar family to have one of their own admitted to a mental institute._ She walked briskly back down the stairs and tried the door against the far wall, only to find that it was sealed with a lock. The mechanism consisted of six pins, each depicting a different skull, which needed to be depressed in order. Flipping through her notebook, she punched in the correct combination, waiting impatiently as the bolt eased open with painful slowness. Surprisingly, the room was rather well lit, with a drawing table, steamer trunk, and a stack of loose books piled waist high lined the walls. A crunch of footsteps on stiff grass alerted her attention to a window and she saw the approaching figures just in time to duck out of sight. Victor plodded on, holding a small, limp form in his arms.

"Father, you must be drained from your journey to the carnival! I'll get you back into your chamber so you can feel the warm embrace of your family. Their souls will make you warm again."

The form he was carrying made a raspy breath that sent shivers up Josephine's spine. _Charles. I should have known that he'd be back here!_ As soon as the coast was clear, Josephine sprang up, a new sense of wild urgency seizing her. She crouched by the steamer trunk, examining the heavy padlock. _Nothing a bit of classic detective skills won't solve!_ She pulled the hair pin she had used to free herself from the attic just hours before and began to work the lock until she heard a snap. Inside the trunk was a telescope, which she tucked into her messenger bag. As she turned to leave, a piece of paper on the floor caught her attention. She picked it up and flitted over the spidery scrawl.

 _My dearest son,  
I have entrusted you to maintain the grounds and various mechanisms in and about the estate. Any disturbance to our family will cause my plan to fail. Divert the attention of any curious parties by any means at your disposal. Prying eyes should be closed—permanently. Remember that I have left you reminders to the elevator combination about the property. I am counting on you, son. Do not fail me.  
Your loving father,  
Charles_

Josephine tossed the note aside, hurrying back to the bedroom. She set the telescope up on the tripod and peered through. It was set to focus on the weathervane on the top of Ravenhearst Manor. The vane itself was shaped like a raven perched atop a ring of numbers, with the suit of clubs in the center. _Yet another clue waiting for discovery._ She copied the numbers in her notebook quickly, her hand shaking slightly. An idea struck suddenly, adding to her frenetic mood. She jogged back down the hill, careful not to slip on the staircase and clamored into the cable car, restlessly waiting as it lurched back to the hidden lair. She practically sprinted though the chamber all the way to the general store in Roseville. She fumbled for the key in her bag and jammed it into the skull panel. Behind it was a number dial and four playing cards, one of each suit, with an arrow on a dial pointing to clubs. She flicked to dials into order, following the pattern from the weathervane. The card retracted into a small slot. She turned the dial to hearts and began pouring back through her notes until she found the engraving from the plaque near the front gates. She found the correct sequence and moved onto spades, from the buoy in the inlet by the docks, and diamonds, from the chalkboard in the schoolhouse. There was a muffled ding of a bell. Josephine cranked the elevator lever and descended to the dock. She cranked again, and, instead of taking her back to the general store as it had on past trials, the vessel descended further.

The doors eased open into a dank stone chamber branching off into three openings. Choosing the one on her right, Josephine came into a sweeping hall well-lit by a distant skylight. In the center was an unmistakable statue form, draped in jewels and withered flowers, surrounded by dripping candles. Laid delicately at the statue's base was piece of parchment covered in familiar spidery letters.

 _Sweet Emma, in time you will forgive my sins. The world of the living shall forever divide us, but I shall bind you close to me in the darkness of death. Fear not a solitary passage, Dear Love. In time, I shall send you a beautiful Rose and her lovely daughters. Their fellowship shall provide you with everlasting comfort and grant me the gift of Life. Yes, the locks will keep you, but in time they will rot. Even their great power is not rival for ghostly scratchings. The only way to be with you and maintain the doors is by crossing the void between life and death. Your companions will give their souls to me so that I may have the energy to remain within the void. I shall also bear you a son, one who will preserve Ravenhearst Manor as we dance within her walls for all eternity. Accept this locket as my final gift to you. May it forever remind you of our loving family.  
Yours forever,  
Charles_

The hairs began to prickle along her arms and down the back of her neck. _Obviously the depraved scrawlings of one insane. I've got to end this._ She glanced about the chamber, hoping to find the locket somewhere in plain sight. It was dangling from the statue's outstretch palms, remarkably well preserved. She knelt to examine the knickknacks piled at the base, some sort of shrine to the 'family'; photographs, jewelry, more letters of devotion, flowers. Tucked carefully into a delicate blossom was another heart, much like the one found in the work room at the cottage. Josephine pocketed this as well. She left the hall, examining the middle passage, blocked by a locked door. A plaque read in crisp flowing print _A house built upon love is a house Eternal._ In the middle of the plaque was a depression, matching perfectly the shape of the locket. Once fitted with the ornament, a panel flipped open, revealing no less than ten small heart-shaped holes. She took the jeweled hearts and pressed them into two of the spots. They fit perfectly. She turned away to the left passage, apparently another study, adorned in metal and polished stone with heavy drapery. A leather-bound notebook lay face down on the floor, seemingly thrown in disgust. Josephine flipped through a few pages, pondering a set of highly detailed sketches of complicated machinery labeled with equations and several angry notes about the failed tests that had been recently run. _This looks bad…_


	10. This Is Not Over Yet

Seeing nothing else to explore, Josephine rode the elevator back to the general store. As she passed the counter, something glinted and caught her eye. _How serendipitous!_ she though, pocketing another heart. _Almost as if someone left it here for me to find…_ She walked on through the town, finding a heart on the ledge of a display window near the entrance to Roseville. She wandered the rest of Roseville and the other doors; she was surprised to find more jeweled hearts, hidden in rather obvious spots—half buried in the sandbox in the schoolyard, on top of the counter in the toy shop, on the tea table in the gingerbread house. _Surely these weren't here before. I swear these were intentionally placed._ Josephine came back through the antechamber. The green liquid was bubbling ferociously in the pipes, glowing brighter than it ever had before.

She roamed the grounds at a brisk pace, searching every obvious hiding spot and finding a charm at each one; one in the bushes by the front gates, two at opposite ends of the porch. Having collected the full set of ten, Josephine hurried back to the elevator and rode impatiently to the lower level, her head pounding in tune with her heart. She arrived at the locked chamber and clamored to place the jeweled hearts into the indentations. As the final stone was fitted into place, the door eased open automatically and a rush of damp, musty air engulfed her.

Inside were several large machine, exact replicas of the notebook sketches. A central chamber full of the same liquid that had been coursing through the pipes in the antechamber stood in the middle of the room, and inside was the form of a man, withered and wrapped in a billowing black cloak. The creature, presumably Charles Dalimar himself, noticed Josephine's entrance and raised a gnarled hand in her direction.

"You!" he half roared, half gasped. "You again!" His voice had an ominous, echoing sound which was not out of place in the large stone room. "You steal my first love and return to my home to mock me? Victor! Come quickly!" Charles raised his arms, suspended in the tank, as if summoning a great mass of energy. "Why is my strength not returning to me? What have you done to my family? Without the warmth of their souls I cannot remain among the living! Victor! Slay this villainess!"

Josephine darted to the back of the area to a large chamber. On its front was a large ring of numbered stones one through seventeen in jumbled order surrounding a circle bearing the words _Love Forever Love_ and a slip of paper with a diagram of the stones in numerical order clockwise. She tried the chamber handle; nothing. The numbers seemed to be able to rotate around the circle, with the three at the apex able to be reversed in order. She quickly got to work, rearranging the numbers in order, constantly checking over her shoulder for signs of Victor. After a while the circle in the center of the complicated lock slid open to reveal what looked far too much like a pulsating heart in a small tank of liquid. With a soft _clack_ the final numbers were arranged.

The smaller tank holding the heart burst with such force as to spew the glowing liquid and shards of glass down Josephine's front. She brought her arms to her face to shield herself, but a few shards wedged themselves in her arms and forehead. She screamed with pain and alarm. The liquid began to drain from the central chamber as Charles shrieked and howled.

"What have you done?" he roared. "All my work is in ruins!"

As the liquid drained from the tanks the entire building gave a mighty lurch. Several pipes burst from tension, spraying their liquid everywhere. A panel of wires caught by the spray began to spark, quickly erupting into flame. Thick fumes choked the air, making it difficult to breathe. The walls began to topple at the exact moment Victor came lurching into the room. Shards of glass littered the floor along with broken chips of metal and segments of torn pipes.

"Curse you, Josephine Miller!" Charles shrieked. The central tank was covered in a spider web of cracks and fragments of glass were dislodging themselves, making the liquid drain out faster. "Hear this: a plague upon you and your dreaded queen!" Victor hobbled to the tank, roughly shoving Josephine out of his way. She smeared blood out of her eyes, stumbling to her feet.

"Victor! Take the device and get to safety! Run far, far away from here!" Charles's words were cut off by a wail of agony. Victor hobbled to the chamber in the back of the room and flung the heavy metal door open with effort, climbing inside. "This is not over yet, Master Detective! I will find you and make you bleed for what you have done, for destroying my family, for taking all that is precious to me!"

"This is not over yet, Detective!" Victor cackled, slamming the door. A large dial on the front read 2008. Victor turned for a moment, fiddling with something Josephine could not see. Suddenly, the numbers began to whiz backwards at a frightening pace until they stopped at 1895. Her body collapsed, choked by fumes and blinded by pain just in time to see the chamber and Victor fade away.

Josephine Miller lay in the grass in front of the blazing inferno that was Ravenhearst Manor. The evening sky and the heavy cloud cover were illuminated a lurid shade of orange as the horrible cacophony of burning wood and shattering glass pervaded the night. Rain lightly fell on her face, cooling her rather battered and scorched body. _How did I escape?_ she wondered to herself. She reluctantly, slowly pushed herself up onto her elbows and up to stand and looked around her. Emergency vehicles were already arriving, surrounding the inferno. Her whole body ached, her head pounding as she felt the gashes in her forehead. _Gah!_ She looked back and forth, scanning the landscape for signs of her savior. As she turned around she caught sight of several forms walking away, two young girls and their mother being led by a familiar figure in a white gown. The woman turned to Josephine and whispered a silent thanks as Emma Ravenhearst led Rose, Gwendolyn, and Charlotte away from the torturous prison they had called home. _I have a feeling that this won't be the last I see of the Dalimars, but we're safe for now…we're safe for now._

 **Brief announcement: next MCF fic will be...drumroll please...FATE'S CARNIVAL! Thoughts/ideas? Comment!**

 **-Ashstar**


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